Prejudice
by mari.92.11.3
Summary: More of Aravis and Cor's arguments--companion piece to 'Nightmares'.


It wasn't as though he couldn't stand her—nor was it that he liked her, either. They weren't indifferent—he couldn't go a minute without her, but it was one minute without bickering. He wasn't sure if they were friends—on one wild, impulsive night, they'd both slipped out of the Midsummer feast and he'd kissed her—though later, when he wasn't quite so tipsy, he realized he wouldn't mind doing it again, sober. She couldn't look at him—but towards the afternoon when he dropped his wine glass, she'd finally exploded and he knew they were back to… whatever it was that they were.

She confused him, and Cor loved it. She was exotic, different, darker and more intelligent than any other woman he'd met. She was ambitious—she wanted peace between the north and south, and she didn't care at what cost it was. And she wanted freedom, from prejudices and from men.

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand, Cor?"

"Why does it bother you so?"

"Why? _Why?_" She snapped, dark eyes blazing, "Because, say, she's chained to an idiot, like you, who doesn't _understand _that she's a human being, that she's just bright and capable as he is—"

"Aravis, there can only be _one_ leader—"

"Why does it have to be a man? Why not a woman? Why is it that, had you an older sister, she could not be queen?"

"Because there must be order—"

"She would still be the elder—"

"But she would be a woman—"

"See?" she nearly shouted, throwing down the cloth she'd been painstakingly embroidering since that morning and shooting up from her chair. "See? You have no reason. Only your foolish pride—"

"Aravis—"

"Leave, Cor."

"But—"

"Get out of my room."

He riled up too, because it was completely unfair of her to send him out because she refused to see logic—

_What logic? You haven't said anything to her. _

"Look, if you're going to be hard-headed and _stupid, _then I don't want to speak to you at all—"

"You never do, do you? Because you're a man, and I'm a woman and thus too lowly for you to even _consider _capable—" She _was _shouting by now.

"I said nothing of the sort!" he roared back. She wasn't frightened in the least, of course, because she'd gotten him to this point so many times before.

"Get out!"

"Fine!" he stormed out and slammed the door behind him. Master Vase, one of his tutors, stood by the door.

"Oh—I—I was about to knock, Your Highness—"

"Never mind. We'll take the lesson in the throne room, today."

"Of course, sir."

*

He caught her in the hallway the next afternoon, walking back from the privy. She was clad in riding trousers and one of his shirts, with one of Corin's heavy coats atop that. He felt a burning sort of jealousy at that—his brother still looked identical to him, but he managed to get along with her infinitely more than the king-to-be.

"Aravis?" he said softly, catching her hand. She ignored him. "I'm sorry."

"Are you drunk?" she asked blandly.

"It's mid afternoon!"

"That's never stopped you before."

"Now you're making things up."

She glared at him, and shook her hand away. "If you're going to call me a liar, when we both know perfectly well that every Christmas morning since you were seventeen you've downed more ale than breakfast—"

"That's only on Christmas, and that's not what I'm here to discuss with you." He said coolly.

She quieted a little and sighed. "Fine. What is it you want? Have you grown wise yet? Or are you still a boy?"

"All I want is your forgiveness." He replied calmly.

She touched his shoulder lightly. "I'm tired of always bickering, Cor. Couldn't we _try_ to give it a rest?"

"I'd be more than happy to, Aravis, but you always—"

"Cor."

"Right. I'm sorry." He caught her in a firm embrace, but didn't let go.

She said, into his shoulder, "So you'll change the law?"

He pulled away. "What? You never said anything—"

"It was _implied._" She was looking at him, wide-eyed and irritated. "So you're apologizing without agreeing with me?"

"Yes. Is that very different from the usual?"

"I don't know; only, it seems to me that when people apologize, it's usually because they've come to see their opponent's side and are agreeing with them."

"Yes, but you never said anything about changing laws."

"So that's it then? I'm too stupid to run your kingdom for you? Is that it? You, a lucky _peasant boy, _do you think you could do better than I?"

"No, Aravis. You know it isn't." Her words cut deeply, but he restrained himself. He'd insulted her people enough times for her to deserve that right.

"Then what?!"

"I just…"

She whirled out of his grasp and stalked away.

*

"And let this, our merry Winter Solstice, be the beginning of a glorious year." King Lune smiled at his table, and his audience applauded. He sat down once more, panting a little. Cor, seated at his right hand side and Corin, at his left, exchanged worried glances. Aravis watched him nervously, next to Corin, who patted her shoulder soothingly. Cor felt a twinge of jealousy, but put it to the back of his head as his father took a small sip of wine and turned to him. "How goes your chase, Cor?"

"My chase?"

His father winked and nodded towards Aravis, who was had gotten up and was now being waltzed by his brother. "She would do you well."

He blushed. "That's silly. We have nothing to do with each other."

"Only that she's got you wrapped around her little finger, my son. Did you not petition for the Inheritance Laws to be changed?"

His blush deepened. "She doesn't know that yet."

"Why did you not tell her?"

He didn't answer. Then, finally, "She hates me already—she'll think I'm asking for favors."

The king smiled. "She doesn't hate you, Cor. She merely gets frustrated easily, more easily with you because she thinks you better than other men."

"How do you know?"

He shrugged, "You think the same of her, do you not?"

He nodded a little. He thought far more of her than he'd ever thought of any other woman—or person at all, for that matter. She was a voice in his head.

"You pick fights as often as she does, my son."

He watched her carefully, after his father left their conversation to speak with a duke. She laughed at Corin's attempts to dance, taught him patiently and reminded him not to step on her feet. Eventually he gathered up the courage to stand and ask his brother for a turn with his dancing partner, and she smiled as though their previous argument was done and buried—he knew better, of course, by the nearly invisible furrow in her brow—but for the meanwhile, they could pretend.

"You look stunning." He whispered in her ear. Unlike his brother, his dancing was slightly more composed. And he certainly wasn't lying—she was in northern garb, but in Calormen colors—her dress was a deep crimson embroidered lightly in gold thread—it embraced her figure, and yet remained modest.

"You're rather original in your complements, aren't you?" she grinned.

"I try," he smiled, twirling her. The dance ended shortly afterwards, and he pulled her out of the hall and into one of the gardens before another man could ask for her—by then the smile on her face had faded into sadness once more.

"It's a beautiful night." He commented absently. She nodded just as vaguely, throwing a glance in his direction. "Listen, Aravis. In a fortnight I leave for the south."

"I know."

"You'll only be joining me when I have been there a month—could we not make the most of these last weeks?"

She sighed. "Yes. You're right, I suppose. Yes, you are, absolutely. Friends?" she extended her hand—he grabbed it firmly, and then pulled her to him roughly in embrace. She squeaked at the sudden force, but then calmed down enough to hug him back. She looked up briefly and smiled, her eyebrows slightly raised. "You're a funny boy, Shasta. If anything, I could swear you were a man."


End file.
